


King and Lionheart

by arrows_and_fairytales



Series: Would You Still Love Me (If I was . . .) [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrows_and_fairytales/pseuds/arrows_and_fairytales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the kingdom of Starling held much respect for proper social order and separation, within the walls of the castles both royals and servants had long since learned that there was not much to be done to separate Prince Oliver and his dearest friend. No one was quite sure how the two had met, but it was difficult to deny the prince the one thing his well-comforted life was missing--a child his own age to play with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somewhere in My Youth or Childhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CityofOlicity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofOlicity/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a chapter of the same name in Would You Still Love Me, this verse just gave me so many ideas that I wanted to expand it into a longer story, so here it is. Thank you guys so much for such wonderful feedback on this first chapter--you're the reason I got through the second one so quickly.

“I swore an oath on the fields of battle that no harm would come to her.”

The queen paced quietly behind him, hands clasped in front of her. “But Robert, I do not understand, what protection can we offer her here. Her very existence is a danger and we by no means have the largest army in the realm.”

The king still gazing out the large arched window, pressed the knuckles of his right hand against the stone window sill. “We will hide her away. She will remain here, under our care, but under a different name and a different station--no bounty hunter would think to look for a royal amongst the servants,” He paused, watching the sun setting over the mountains in the distance. “This is the only means by which we can guarantee her safety.”

The queen approached her husband, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Very well, my lord.”

*        *         *

The young prince tip-toed quietly up the stairs, stopping in front of the girls sleeping quarters. He opened the door carefully, knowing that it squeaked after a certain point, but finally clear of all obstacles he bounded silently across the room to one of the smaller beds, where a head of blond hair poked out from the blankets.

“Felicity! Felicity! Wake up!” The young boy whispered, shaking the sleeping girl.

“Go away.” The girl grumbled in response.

“Felicity. The sun is awake, so we must be as well! Come on, get up.” His relentless pulling and shaking didn’t cease. Turning more fully on her side, one of the girl’s eyes opened suddenly, her partial gaze glaring at the prince.

Realizing he finally had her attention, a wide grin broke across his features. “Please, Felicity. It will be fun, I promise.”

With the other eye now open, both filled with mirth, she nodded. Sitting up, she pushed her friend by the shoulders toward the door and told him she would meet him outside in a moment.

Soon the two children were hurrying down the stairs to the kitchens. Although most of the servants were not yet awake, those who passed the pair--a prince and a servant girl--did not bat an eye at such blatant disregard for station and rank. While the kingdom of Starling held much respect for proper social order and separation, within the walls of the castles both royals and servants had long since learned that there was not much to be done to separate Prince Oliver and his dearest friend. No one was quite sure how the two had met, but it was difficult to deny the prince the one thing his well-comforted life was missing--a child his own age to play with.

*        *         *

The sun beat down on the crown of the girl’s head as she bent over her task, sitting on the steps to the kitchen door.

“Psst.”

“Go away, Oliver.” She called out knowing that her friend could hear her from wherever he was hidden.

The source of the sound stepped out from behind the corner wall, an expression of shock on his face. The girl, however, did not look up from her task when he implored “How did you know it was me? For all you know I could have been a stable boy, come to whisk you away.”

The girl laughed. “Only you would have the courage to come distract me, knowing Raisa’s watching me like a hawk. While such persistence and courage will make you a very good king some day, it will not work today because I’ve been ordered to finish cleaning these beans before supper.”

But Oliver was undeterred. “Come, Felicity. What if I promise that you’ll be able to finish your duties where we are going? It is merely a change of scenery.”

Felicity finally looked up, a brow raised in suspicion. “Oh, really? And what, pray tell, would we be doing that would fulfill such conditions?”

The prince, a tall and lanky twelve-year old, plopped down on the steps next to his friend. “Father’s all but ordered me to work on my sword training. But I’d much rather have company, instead of being all by my lonesome.” He finished, looking up through his lashes, with his mouth in an exaggerated pout.

His countenance caused Felicity to erupt into a fit of giggles. “Oh, you just want me to be there to tell you how wonderful you are and what a brilliant fighter you make.”

“No, but if it works for you go with it.” He grinned, leaning back against the steps.

Felicity wiped her hands on her apron and reached out a hand to pat him on the cheek. “Come on then.”

The prince shook his head and smiled. Standing, he took her basket it in his hand, and the two made their way to the clearing in the woods that surrounded the castle.

 

The clash of sticks rang out in the clearing. The prince was breathing heavy as he and his best friend continued to circle each other, her mischievous grin made him more than a little weary.

“I still don’t know how you became such an expert swordsman. It not exactly an activity for a lady to engage in.”

Felicity laughed. “Did the Duke’s daughter tell you that?”

“Who? You mean Laurel?” Oliver asked, dodging a swipe from Felicity.

She nodded. “It sounds like something she would say. Besides such rules only apply, if they apply at all, to the aristocracy. And as to how. . .” She paused as she drove several more attacks, finally succeeding in knocking the stick from Oliver’s grasp. “Clearly, I was the only one paying attention when Slade was teaching, although not intentionally -- and in my defense it seemed like fun. And I have to say, being able to best you makes all those afternoons training with John worth it.”

The sound of laughter replaced the sound of sticks as Felicity grabbed her basket, Oliver chasing her all the way back to the castle.

*        *         *

As the young man skidded to a halt in the throne room, the king and his son immediately ceased their conversation and turned their attention on him.

Breathless, the messenger spoke in a rush. “Your majesties, there has been an attack on a member of the royal staff. It was on the King’s road, near the province of Bludhaven. Bandits appeared from the woods and attacked the girl, but the soldier that was with her was able to fend them off. They have entered the gates only moments ago.”

“Which staff member was it?” The king asked stepping towards him. The young messenger twisted his red cap in his hands nervously, more afraid of sharing the news with the prince than his father.

Said prince was now standing as well, mirroring the King’s actions. He recognized the messenger as the recently promoted stable boy. “Out with it, Harper!”

“It was the healer’s apprentice, sire. Miss Felicity Smoak.” He mumbled the last sentence, not daring to look at the prince.

Roy Harper heard the echo of the prince’s boots as he ran past him and down the hallway towards the healer’s quarters.

 

Prince Oliver burst into the room so suddenly that Harrison nearly dropped the potion he was mixing.

He made a quick bow, but the prince ignored him as he headed straight for where Felicity was lying prone on a cot, just to the right of his workstation.

While it was well known that his young apprentice was close friends with the crown prince, it was quite a shock to Harrison to see the young man fall to his knees beside the cot, his hand immediately coming up to pass tentative strokes across Felicity’s forehead. Oliver’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “How is she, Harrison?”

The healer stepped next to Oliver, lifting Felicity’s head slightly to pour the potion into her mouth. Laying her down gently, Harrison replied “She will heal, your highness. Miss Smoak took several blows to her midsection. But it’s nothing several days of rest won’t heal. She was lucky she had Mister Allen with her for protection.”

Oliver nodded, but his attention was focused solely on his friend.

 

The bandits were found within the week and hung in the town square. If anyone thought such a punishment was out of the norm for thievery, there was not a word spoken. Life went on, and the healer’s apprentice remained ignorant.

*        *         *

“If you continue to worry away at that crown, it might soon crumple to dust.”

Oliver turned as his best friend closed the door quietly behind her.

“I mean not that you could actually destroy a crown just by turning it in your hands. Because it is metal. But . . . I cannot believe they did not think to look for you in here. If I was looking your study would be the first place I would look, well I guess that is obvious, because here I am and--”

“Felicity.” He set the crown on his desk as he crossed the room towards her. “I suppose you have heard by now.”

“About the war? Of course. Oliver, I know this is enormous weight on your shoulders, but your father felt you were ready to lead the army into battle. And he will be there to advise you.”

Oliver sighed, reaching out to idly play with her hands. “I’m not worried that we can beat them. I am terrified that I will fail as a leader. Hundreds of men will be looking to me to make the right decision, and I am barely one and twenty. How can they depend upon me?”

Felicity slipped her hands from his and brought them up to frame his face. “Because every knight in this kingdom is just now starting to see, and will learn, what I have known all along. You are a natural born leader, Oliver. You are kind. You are merciful. You are courageous and brave. And most importantly, you are a hero.” She tried to keep the sadness at his leaving hidden from her eyes, letting her encouraging smile spread across her face.

Seeing that her words had not fully dispelled her best friend’s anxiety, she reached behind her to unclasp her necklace. It was a piece that she had worn since birth--a simple gold chain from which hung a small sun pendant, with intricate knot work. Felicity closed the little space between them, reaching up to clasp the necklace around Oliver’s neck.

“Besides, I do know two things with absolute certainty. No matter what happens, you will never be alone,” She laid her hand over where the small sun rested on his chest. Stepping back, Felicity walked over to the desk and picked up the discarded crown, turning it in her hands as she made her way back. Standing on her tip toes, she placed the crown gently on his head. Felicity made sure she was looking her friend directly in the eyes when she finished her declaration. “And I believe in you.”

*        *         *

Felicity was just outside of Oliver’s chamber when she saw his manservant approaching.

“If you are here to help his highness into his armor, would you be so kind as to let me take on your duties?” She paused. “I need to say goodbye.”

John gave her a sad smile. “I shall go bid goodbye to my wife. Tell his highness that I shall meet him outside the stables.”

Felicity assured that she would, and only after waiting for John to make his way down the corridor did she quietly open the prince’s door.

Oliver sat in his chair, staring in the the flames in the fireplace. He glanced up when the door opened and his smile mirrored John’s when he saw who had entered.

Felicity walked over to the bed where his armor was laid out, behind her she heard him stand up and head towards her.

“Are you sure you can lift that?” Oliver asked gesturing to the various metal garments.

“Oh I am much stronger than you give me credit for, good sir.”

Because her back was still to him, she didn’t see the small grin that tugged at his lips. More to himself, than to her he muttered. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

Felicity turned then, the chainmail in her hands, to see her friend standing directly behind her. “Come on then. Let’s get you ready for battle.”

She worked quietly as she slid the chainmail over his green tunic. Felicity placed each part of his armor on with care, her fingers hovering as she tightened this and set that. The last thing she gave him was his sword. Oliver was struck by how odd it, the hilt grasped in one of her small hands. He reached out to take it from her, when her other hand closed on his grasping it between her own. Felicity finally looked up at him then and he could see the tears that she was holding back. She had been with him through numerous tournaments, had seen him off on multiple diplomatic voyages, but never had war parted the two friends. Looking back down at their enjoined hands, he watched as she transferred the sword to his--the hilt now resting in his closed fist--before lifting his hand and pressing her lips to it.

Her head still down, she whispered. “Come back, my lord.”

He put two fingers under her chin and guided her up. “Hey. I would never leave my dearest friend behind. I will come back. I promise.”

“Good. I would disparage if I spent all time praying with Friar Tuck for nothing. The man reeks like spoiled milk.”

There was his friend. Oliver let out a laugh. “I promise, Felicity, your sacrifices, nor your prayers will be in vain. I’ll come back. Will watch over my sister while my father and I are gone?”

Felicity smiled as he sheathed his sword. “Of course. Who knows, she might possibly be a better friend than the current prat I’m stuck with.”

Oliver’s boyish grin was full blown and there was gleam in eye. “Never.”

And with that he turned and left his chamber. However, neither the prince nor the servant girl knew that that would be the last conversation they would have for four years.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at arrows-and-fairytales.tumblr.com for dialogue teases and other Olicity goodness


	2. We Soldier On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first new chapter. There are so many angsty feels in this one--I basically pored all the sadness that the finale left me with into this one, so be prepared! Up next will be Oliver's return.

Felicity was unaware just how serious Oliver took her promise to watch over Thea, until three days after his departure when she received orders from Queen Moira assigning her as the princess’ personal maidservant. While she wasn’t thrilled with leaving her position as Harrison’s apprentice, she knew that the assignment had most likely been one of Oliver’s final requests before he left; and besides orders were orders.

*        *        *

As the weeks turned into months, Felicity watched and listened to the young princess--who was just beginning to shed the innocent armor of childhood. She knew Thea was in grave danger of getting lost in the hustle and bustle of life at court. Felicity also knew that Thea had admired her brother and he had spent much of his time--from the moment Thea could walk and talk--guiding and teaching her. King Robert, as well, had an incredibly soft spot for his only daughter; he was often seen playing and teasing her when things at court were calm. But it seemed that under the weight of becoming Queen Regent, Thea’s mother--who had never been the warmest mother--believed Thea’s guidance was better left to her tutors. And while Felicity could see the benefit of such a concentrated academic tutelage for a quickly growing young woman, she could also see that Thea needed a confidant and more importantly, a friend.

There were some days that the way Thea laughed or spoke that reminded Felicity so much of Oliver, that for a moment Felicity felt like her best friend had never left.

And unbeknownst to Felicity, there were days--that became more and more commonplace--that in the advice she gave or in her ability to listen without judgment, Thea noticed that emptiness that she felt when Oliver left for battle began did not ache quite as much.

And so the two soldiered on through their own battle without their best friend and brother. Without a prince who was fighting in a realm far away.

*        *        *

 

The crisp night air cut at his skin as he leaned against the tall oak. Most of the men were asleep, staying as close to the fires as possible. While his father slept peacefully in the council’s tent, Oliver, on the other hand, felt obligated from the beginning to always stay amongst his men. He had also started taking the watch during the early hours just before daybreak; he was usually awake anyway, and he found the period of silence a perfect time to collect his thoughts and plan for the battles ahead. However, Oliver frequently found himself reflecting, calling to mind the life he had left behind.

“You love her, don’t you.”

Oliver was startled by the voice, however quiet it may have been, and looked up to see his former manservant, John Diggle, hovering over him. Oliver must have appeared confused, because after sitting next to him, John indicated to the small pendant that Oliver had been unconsciously turning between his fingers.

“Of course, John, she is my best friend,” Oliver seemed to be talking more to himself, then something occurred to him. “Wait, how did you know this belonged to Felicity?”

John chuckled, shaking his head. “No offense, your highness, but such a delicate charm is better suited for a lady’s neck. And you forget, I have known her as long as I have known you--the two of you were inseparable after all.”

The two sat quietly, watching as the first rays of dawn began to peek above the horizon.

“If I may be so bold, your highness, it was not the love of friendship that I was referring to.”

While he received no response from the prince, when John glanced over at the younger man he could have sworn that the corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly. Plus there was the fact that as dawn broke, the pendant never slipped from the prince’s fingers.

Perhaps, when this war was over, John would have a new fairytale to tell his daughter.

*        *        *

Felicity ran the brush slowly through Thea’s chestnut locks, as the princess looked out to the gardens outside her window. It was almost two and half years since Oliver left. And while there were infrequent reports from the battlefield, there was no word on the prince or the king’s condition. The recent diplomatic squabbles with a few of the neighboring kingdoms had all but overshadowed interest in the long drawn-out conflict in the far away realm.

“Felicity, do you think he will ever return?” Thea’s voice sounded small and childish, a sharp contrast to the young woman’s body she had finally grown into.

Felicity sighed. If she was honest with herself, she could admit that even her hope was wavering. Even if Oliver ever did return, he would not be the same as he left. Distantly she thought of the old men that she had often overheard in the kitchens as a child, who would talk about how once a man had bathed in the dirt, grime, and blood of battle that he came out anew--as close as a living man could come to walking the streets of hell.

Standing behind Thea, Felicity was grateful the princess could not see her face--Oliver had always told her that it was her eyes that made her an open book. Taking a deep breath, she replied “I am sure he will. And I am sure that wherever he is, you are without a doubt a constant in his thoughts.”

Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Thea nodded. “When you are done, I have something to give you.”

“Oh, really?” Felicity was glad the topic of conversation had shifted. She felt more stable without thoughts of her best friend and mortality crowding in the forefront of her mind.

“Mmmhhh. Something I nicked from Oliver’s chambers just after he left.”

So a subject change was not to be. However, realizing what Thea had just admitted to Felicity admonished her charge. “Thea! You can’t steal from people in their absence, especially your brother.”

The princess was unfazed by Felicity’s use of her Christian name--which she had insisted upon when Felicity was assigned as her maidservant. But her admonishment went ignored. “It is not like he is going to need it while he is away. And I fully intended on returning it to him when he came home. I am simply transferring custody of it to you, his bel. . best friend.”

Knowing that the young royal was as stubborn as her brother when she set her mind to something, Felicity gave in. She signaled as such in her heavy sigh as she finished plaiting Thea’s hair.

No sooner had she tied the ribbon, then Thea was bounding across the room to her dresser, opening the wooden jewelry box that sat atop it. Initially, Felicity could not see what she had pulled out, until Thea unwrapped it from the linen cloth and placed it in Felicity’s hands.

Felicity recognized it immediately as the stamp Oliver used to seal his correspondence. While his family had their crest, the stamp held a crest of a slight variation that signaled to each letter recipient that the letter came directly from Prince Oliver himself. Suddenly images of sitting with him in his study while he drafted letters to his friends and acquaintances flashed through her mind, and in that moment she missed her best friend with a passion. Glancing up at Thea, who gave her a small nod, and she turned and headed to her room--just off the princess’s chambers.

Thea smiled as she watched the woman that had become like a sister to her, and to an empty room she remarked “It is yours, Felicity, just as is his heart.”

 

 


	3. A Rather Chilly Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver returns home, but all is not how it once was four years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What!?!?! Two chapters in two days! I'm on a roll! Thank you so much to all the kind feedback, you all inspire me to keep writing so quickly.
> 
> I know this one's a bit short, but I wanted to keep the reunion it's own separate chapter.

Oliver felt the ice creak beneath his feet like the rickety floorboards of an aging house. A younger man might have felt a sense of trepidation taking in the ominous and dilapidated winter conditions pressing in on he and his men, but the battle-weary prince was unaffected as he soldiered on. The withered field surrounding the kingdom seemed to embrace the soldiers as good friends, who only needed the quiet company to be satisfied. This is not to say that their presence added light to the desolate land, most certainly not, their boyish grins and eyes full of mirth had collapsed under the steel weight of four years spent waging war. No, what remained of the once strong army of Starling, most notably the prince, were sad antique paintings returning to their gallery of bedfellows after years of being passed along by unwanting hands.

The frost had cleared out what had once been a bustling market day along the main road. As the men made their way through the village, they caught sight of faces peeking through windows--a foot soldier, not of their company, had already been seen running ahead to announce their arrival to the queen. They could hear the whispers gaining speed: “Look! The prince returns!” “The army has come home!” But the soldiers did not turn from their path, guiding their horses slowly up the path to the castle. Over three hundred men had left four years ago to fight a battle to protect their allies in the West, now only sixty remained.

The company separated when they reached the gates of Oliver’s childhood home. Many of the men either assisted in taking the horses to the stables, while the others headed towards the kitchens in search of food. Oliver, along with his handful of generals and lieutenants, walked into the entrance hall, where they were informed by a castle guard that the queen and princess were holding court in the throne room.

Their boots struck the marble floors loudly, at odds with such pristine architecture, but it did not disturb Oliver from his path. He was grateful for Diggle’s steady presence beside him--the older man having been promoted to lieutenant two years previous--as he was weary of reuniting with his mother and sister, of discarding his identity of soldier for his birthright of crown-prince. After four years on the battlefield he had stopped viewing people as people, instead his vision was now consumed with threats and targets; and as he had confided in Diggle on their journey home he was not quite sure he could ever transition back to the royal he was expected to be.

<\------------------>

The chill in the air had kept many visitors from coming to the castle as of late, but this morning a lord from the neighboring kingdom had arrived to renegotiate the terms of a long standing treaty--and while court might not have been as busy as it traditionally was, Queen Moira insisted that the no matter how little visitors they had, court was still to be held with as much as pomp and circumstance as if they had a hundred visitors.

Thus, Felicity found herself standing demurely behind Thea’s throne on the royal dais, trying her hardest not to glance out the grand throne room windows--which had always held the most stunning views of the the castle grounds. Instead she and Thea both feigned heightened interest in the squat balding man with a horrendous monotone voice as he regaled the Queen Regent with the finer points of the new treaty.

Suddenly the staleness that had settled over the throne room was shattered when a small commotion came from the servants’ entrance. A foot soldier was gesturing wildly to the guard nearest the entrance, his hands often motioning to the queen. Both hearing the noise and catching sight of the boy’s movements, Queen Moira cleared her throat politely calling the attention of the foot soldier.  Eyebrow raised in inquiry, she gestured to the boy to come before her.

“Your majesty, the army returns from the Western realm. The prince leads them towards the castle.”

A gasp swept across the room, however the queen’s face did not disclose a single emotion. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke.

“And you are sure of this? The prince has returned?”

“Yes, your majesty. A company of no more than sixty men were seen on the main village road. It was clear that --”

His description was interrupted when the main throne room doors opened slowly, revealing a small group of men, the prince in front. The foot soldier scurried away, his presence no longer needed or acknowledged.

It was the presence of her son that finally caused the queen to reveal her emotions--a shocked, but quiet gasp of “Oliver”, yet propriety kept her feet in place. It was her son that closed the distance between them, embracing his mother in a hug. As the image of her very much living brother before her, Thea came out of her state of immobility rushing down the dias to embrace her brother as soon as he had released her mother. All seemed joyous and celebratory, until Oliver took a step back and fell to one knee, the men with him immediately doing the same.

“Oliver, what--” Thea’s question was cut off as Oliver’s voice rang out through the throne room.

“My queen, it is with a heavy heart that I must report that the kingdom lost many brave men during the years of war. Among them was our noble and brave king, who died a warrior’s death fighting the enemy.”

There was a moment of absolute silence and then there was motion. The queen dismissed the visiting noble, telling him shortly that they would discuss the treaty further in the coming days, and then she was instructing the advisors to gather the council members--leading them from the room, a string of orders on her lips. No one questioned the queen’s lack of grief, instead they followed the unspoken duties that had just been assigned. Within minutes, the throne room was nearly empty. As Oliver stood up and once again embraced his sister, whose sobs were silenced by his coat, he glanced up to the dias and saw the women who had been a glowing candle in his mind, guiding him safely home. An almost unnoticeable nod was all he recieved, before she was in front of him guiding Thea out of the room and most likely to the princess’s chambers.

Oliver desperately wanted to wrap his arms around his best friend, just as he had his mother and sister. He had hoped such a greeting would help to ground him after years in near constant motion.

But it appeared much had changed at court since he had left four years earlier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at arrows-and-fairytales.tumblr.com for more Olicity goodness


	4. King and Lionheart Soundtrack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little music to get you through until the next update (which should be sometime around Monday *fingers-crossed*)

[King and Lionheart - An Olicity AU Soundtrack](http://8tracks.com/arrows-and-fairytales/king-and-lionheart-an-olicity-au-soundtrack?utm_medium=trax_embed) from [arrows-and-fairytales](http://8tracks.com/arrows-and-fairytales?utm_medium=trax_embed) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=trax_embed).


	5. The Arrival of the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of avoiding the prince, Felicity takes a morning to escape into the outdoors. Little does she know, someone is close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said this one was going to be a bit longer because originally I had planned on putting the scenes in the next chapter with this one. But after wrapping up the (second) reunion, and knowing where I was going with the next scene, I really wanted each of them to kind of stand on there own. Next chapter will hopefully be up by Friday.

The faded and worn linen felt like smooth sand across her skin--rough but not unpleasant. Regardless, it helped her feel something, overcoming a numbness that had emerged since the morning Oliver had marched his way back into her castle--back into her heart--she felt numb. Overwhelmed by the struggle between what was duty, propriety and emotion, Felicity had retreated into herself. She knew that Thea immediately noticed her reserved demeanor, but blessedly the princess chose not to comment on it. For a fortnight, Felicity had clung to the shadows, finding alternate corridors and hallways whenever she heard the distinct sound of boots on marble. Finally though she had had enough, desperate for a moment free of observation and hiding. Knowing Thea usually woke around mid-morning, Felicity had forced herself awake at daybreak and dressing quickly, she slipped out of the castle and into the surrounding woods.

<\----------->

Still not fully awake, Felicity let her feet guide her over the familiar paths, but she let out a swift curse when she realized where she had unconsciously gone. Instead of the thinning of trees where she usually went on mornings such as this, she was in the clearing where she and Oliver had spent many an afternoon as children. After a heavy sigh, she shook off the coincidence as it would waste precious time getting to her usual spot and the clearing was as good a place as any. With the morning sun warm on her face, Felicity lifted the bow from where it was slung across her shoulder and drew an arrow from her quiver. A breath in had her pulling the taut string back, aiming for a nearby tree. As she exhaled and fired, she was unaware that there were eyes focused upon her. The eyes of the very man she was trying to avoid.

 <\----------->

It was comforting to know that while he seemed to have entered a wholly unfamiliar world upon his return, there were a few things that had not changed. Namely his best friend’s inability to move as quietly as she thought she did, although Oliver had to give her credit for if he had not already been awake--in addition to keen senses forged from countless nights of watch--he doubt he would have heard her. But he had her footsteps and glancing out of his chambers to see her retreating back, he had followed her. Oliver was taken aback by her look of confusion when she had entered their childhood spot, but it was quickly overtaken by his surprise at her skill with a bow. He knew from before he had left that she was far from inept when it came to weaponry, but the fluidity with which she nocked and fired her arrows bested many of the royal archers. Oliver watched in amazement, the girl he had known all for most of his life stood before him a goddess, a vision of grace and majesty. As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, the rays seemed to wrap around her golden locks like a shining crown and his father's final words came drifting back to him.

 

_The flames rose high into the night sky as the pyre burned the body of the once mighty king. Many of the soldiers were on bended knee--a last salute to their leader--but Oliver hung back, the sight of his father being run through with the enemy’s sword still clear in his mind. He was shaken from his haze when his father’s manservant approached, a letter grasped in his hand._

_“Your highness, the King asked me to give this to you in the event of his death.” Without waiting for a reply after Oliver had taken the letter from him, the servant turned on his heel and headed back towards the tents._

_It was fitting, Oliver thought, that the light from the funeral pyre allowed him to read his father’s final words as he gently unfolded the parchment._

_My dearest son,_

_I thought I would have more time to explain this all to you. Our kingdom is not what you believe it to be, nor am I the man you thought I was. I did not build our kingdom, I have failed it. And I am not the only one. The council that leads and guides our people is corrupt, working with those who seek to see our kingdom destroyed. But you, my son, can change all of that. I have watched you these past few months and the man that you have become will one day make a great king. My son, you must survive this war and return home. It is your duty to right my wrongs, and rebuild our kingdom into the thriving utopia it is destined to be. But be weary, for I fear no one can be trusted--not even your mother._

_With my death, you will also inherit my blood debt. Long ago, when you were just a babe, I made a promise to a comrade of mine. He, too, was king of a neighboring realm and a league of assassins had staged a coup. He was able to escape with his daughter, and he begged me to keep her hidden and safe. The league caught up with him within a fortnight, at which time they slaughtered him and placed his head upon a spike outside the castle walls. Her protection is now in your hands. Although I have no doubt this will be a difficult task for you since she has never strayed far from your sight._

_Therefore, survive, my son. Return to our home after this war is over and rescue it from destruction. I have no doubt that you will become as great as the heroes of legend._

_All my love,_

_Your father_

 

“Who’s there?”

Oliver quietly cursed, in his musings he must have unconsciously stepped back onto a dry twig. Rolling his shoulders, he figured now was a good a time as any to announce his presence.

“Relax, Felicity, it’s just me.” He took a step forward into the clearing and she shifted to face him.

She fell into a small curtsy, her bow falling from her hands. In a quiet voice she said “Your highness, my apologies I didn’t see you there.”

With two fingers under her chin, he guided her up. Oliver knew she was avoiding him, a strange behavior, that combined with her lack of greeting upon his arrival made him anxious to find out why. “Felicity, what has happened since I’ve been gone? And do not say--”

“Nothing, your highness.”

Oliver let out a breath, it was taking effort to keep his voice calm and soft. “The truth, please.”

He watched as Felicity worried her bottom lip between her teeth, searching his face. After a moment, and a deep sigh, she spoke. “You clearly have noticed that much has changed in the past four years?”

“It has not escaped my attention.”

“You may have also noticed that everyone is quieter, more reserved.” Felicity paused. “There are rumors that there are forces at work to overthrow your family from power, forces both inside and outside the castle and kingdom. The servants live under threat than anything less than utmost proper decorum and full compliance with rank and status will undermine your family’s hold on the crown. Thea was able to warn me before I did anything wrong, but others have not been so lucky. Oliver, there have been more lashings and banishments than ever before. I have dedicated my life to serving the crown and I will do everything in my power to make sure it is your family that remains in power. And if that robs me of my friendship with you, then so be it.”

Oliver could see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes and he knew that she too had suffered in their four years apart. Although part of him yearned to brush his hand along her cheek in comfort, he forced his hand to remain at his side. “Hey, you are not going to lose me. Now that I’ve returned, I will restore the kingdom to its former glory. Those who seek to destroy our home will pray that I had died in the war.”

Glancing over her head, he could see the spires of the castle and his father’s last command rang in his ears.

“That is a fools errand, Oliver. These enemies cannot be brought down with a sword. You must outthink them, do not let them outthink you. Please be careful.” Felicity’s next word were so hushed that Oliver almost did not hear them. “This kingdom cannot afford to lose its greatest king before he has even taken the throne.”

Nodding once to herself, Felicity looked him in the eyes on last time, a bittersweet smile on her face. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

It was only after she had turned from him that he caught sight of it, right below her hair, pulled up with an emerald ribbon. The mark seemed vaguely familiar, and was not until he remembered what she had stated before about dedicating her life to the crown did it finally come to him. Yet he had only seen the crest embedded in hot wax as he sealed his letters. Seeing it inked upon her pale skin stirred that same joyous and warm feeling that had gotten him through the coldest of nights of the war, holding onto that small gold sun. For it was his mark, no bigger than a sixpence, that was branded upon her skin, in a place hidden from propriety.

All this was realized in a matter of seconds, upon which Felicity had just neared the edge of the trees.

“Felicity, wait!” Oliver called out and with a few long strides he closed the distance between them.

Although he had physically arrived two weeks prior, it was in that particular moment that the prince finally felt as though he had arrived home as he embraced his best friend. It was unclear who first spoke the words “I missed you”, however one thing was certain as Oliver ran his thumb over that small mark: the two of them were in this together, propriety be damned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at arrows-and-fairytales.tumblr.com


	6. Bells that Toll in the Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a peaceful respite, all seems calm within the castle walls, but the peace is not to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, finally!!!!! Thanks to the massive help of my friend, Holly, who helped write a good portion of this chapter to get me off and running.

The hall bustled with activity, filled row upon row with red caped soldiers.  A low murmur hummed throughout the room, echoing off the stone walls and filling the hall with the pleasant hum of jovial conversation, driving out any lingering chill the harsh winter had left behind. The sounds seemed distant to Oliver, who sat at the high table, lost in the tumble of his thoughts. His shoulders were slumped, brow pinched tight above bleak eyes that held a storm of longing--eyes that surveyed the room intently, searching, seeking for the one face that would light up his gloomy mood, warming it with the glow of her smile, and the melodious ripple of her laugh. His jaw clenched tight; he could hear the stiff grinding of his teeth, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Where was she? He thought she’d given up avoiding him, after their moment in the forest. He’d thought they were in this together, so the question was, why had she taken to avoiding him once again?

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Outside the castle, the town was still, as if all the noise had been sucked from its depths, leaving, in its absence, a gaping hole of silence. It was the kind of silence that set Roy’s teeth on edge, and sent a cool shiver of fear down his spine, a ripple that followed the single droplet of sweat that traced itself under his armour. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself as he fought to shake the feeling of looming danger that hung about the empty streets of the village. He paced on, following the familiar route of his patrol, hoping the bustling clamor of nearby taverns and the pleasant sound of music would chase away his sense of foreboding. But there was no music. No sweet, lilting voices cutting through the night, nor the comforting careen of drunken revellers as they sang out familiar tunes. Nothing. It was the harsh sound of countless hooves against stone that jolted him from his thoughts, and sent a cold dagger of terror shooting to his heart. His head shot up, eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. Torches; hundreds of them - an army of glowing heads that grew brighter and brighter with each moment, lighting up the night sky like the fiery mouth of hell itself.

  <\-----------------------> 

The heady and jovial warmth of the room was suffocating, increasing as the wine flowed freely and the voices raised in spirit and volume. Oliver gave a heavy sigh as he gave up his quiet search for her face amongst the throng of people.

Suddenly the festive cheer of the hall was broken by the tolling of bells in the distance. The fissure in the mood widened further when the great oak doors of the hall were thrown open revealing John Diggle and a handful of knights.

“Sire, the castle is under attack!” His voice boomed, leaving all but a whispered hush amongst the once uproarious guests.

The words had only just been uttered, however the moment he had seen his friend, Oliver was already in motion. Shedding his cape, he vaulted across the table--calling out orders to his knights. Diggle approached him swiftly, grasping his forearm and speaking words that stilled his heart.

“Oliver, I cut several of them down myself. On their garb is the face of a demon,” Diggle paused before delivering the final blow, “They are here for her.”

The prince locked eyes with his lieutenant, searching for any trace of falsehood in his words. Finding none, Oliver knew he had to find Felicity with the utmost haste and get her out of the castle.

“John, get the queen and princess to safety! I’m putting their lives in your hands!”

John nodded before heading in the direction of Oliver’s mother and sister. Without a moment’s hesitation, Oliver raced from the hall in the direction of the sleeping quarters. His boots pounded a sharp refrain against the marble, echoed by the frenzied thudding of his heart, the laboured wheeze of air as he dragged in breath after breath. Pale walls swept by in a blur, his vision seeming to tunnel as he ran, intent on only one goal. Finding Felicity. His blade whirled as he moved. Never breaking a step, he weaved among black clad soldiers, ducking under jabs and slicing through mail with a deadly grace, in a dance that was as easy as breathing. Without thought, he parried thrust after thrust, feeling the fire that flooded his veins and spurred him on in a blaze of motion towards a single target. Soldiers fell in waves, crumpling to the floor as they were cut down with brutal efficiency, but each body that dropped was replaced with two more masked demons, until all he could see were targets and threats waiting to be dispatched. Finally with his breathing ragged with rage and exhaustion, only three remained. The first two, he slayed with a quick slice of his blood stained sword. The third however, evaded his grasp, moving like the thinnest smoke--impossible to catch in one’s bare hands. Every move in his long-honed arsenal was not enough to vanquish his opponent. Using his movement against him, the soldier quickly had him pinned with his arm pulled painfully behind his back, the hand that held his sword only barely maintaining its grasp on the hilt. With the other massive arm banded around his neck, breathing became difficult. Oliver’s vision blurred, the world swimming around him, as he fought against the vice grip - slowly losing the strength to overtake his opponent.

The arrow whistled through the air piercing the throat of his assailant with a sickening sound. Turning his gaze to find his savior, he saw her at the end of the corridor--bow still drawn. For an age they stared at one another, their breaths filling the now quiet space. And then Oliver was moving, his long legs eating up the distance between them. Grabbing her arm, he guided them at a run down the corridor.

“Oliver? What is happening?”

He didn’t turn back to her, but replied. “We need to get you out of the castle, Felicity. It isn’t safe.”

“Why?” When he didn’t reply, she pulled to a stop, “Oliver, tell me what is happening? Why aren’t you with your men?”

With a sigh, he turned. Not caring if anyone saw them, he approached her quickly and cupped her face in his hands. “Felicity, the soldiers attacking the castle are after you. There’s no time to explain, but you have to trust me. I need to get you to safety. Do you understand?”

She nodded and pulled away to slide the bow over her shoulder. Slipping her hand into his, she gave it a firm squeeze, and then they were running again. 


End file.
